I'm Right Here, Sammy
by wunchester
Summary: Sam pretty much sucks at breathing but Dean knows how to deal with it. Most of the time.
1. Chapter 1

**Writer's Note: Just want to say that this is my first ever work in the supernatural fandom, as I'm usually more of a reader than a writer, so please bear with me.**

**Also, all of my medical knowledge has be procured from the internet and previous fic's I've read, so please excuse any glaring errors. (That said, if you have any corrections to give me, please feel free)**

* * *

Dean always worries about Sam when they have to leave him home for a hunt, and not because he's a clumsy and heavy handed 15 year old or because he never knows where the milk's kept - but because chances are, if they were ditching him for a hunt it was because he wasn't up for it, and, well that never really ends too well.

He walks over to the couch where Sam's lying bundled up in scratchy motel blankets that they had to dry-clean three times over so he wouldn't goddamn suffocate to death on the dust and asks "Hey Sammy, you good?" ruffling his hair - Sam likes it when he does that, it makes him feel safe.

Sam wheezes out a sigh and purposefully avoiding the question, replies curtly with "Hey" and wriggles himself deeper into the sofa to wheeze and crackle not-so-discretely.

"Sammy?" Dean says, concern rising in his voice "I asked you a question bud, you okay?" he places a hand on Sam's shoulder and when he feels the heat radiating off it, moves it up to touch his forehead "you're running a bit of a fever there" he furrows his eyebrows and reaches forward to place a hand on Sam's chest.

"Don't," Sam groans, shifting away from his brother, "I'm fine, I promise. I can do the hunt - I'll tell you or dad if i feel bad..." He looks up at Dean, who's shaking his head.

"You know I won't let Dad take you with us if you're having a bad day -"

"Every day is a bad day, Dean" Sam interrupts, putting a fist in the middle of his chest, rubbing small circles and clearing his throat.

Deans sighs inwardly and looks over his shoulder at the bedside table where Sam's medications sit "Have you taken everything then?" Sam waves his hand absently at Dean as if to tell him to 'shut up I'm trying to watch my geeky documentaries' so Dean takes that as a no and brings them over with a glass of water.

"Thanks." Sam mumbles, without looking away from the television.

"Hey, don't worry about the hunt okay? Its nothing more than a salt and burn, you won't be missing out on anything" he motions for Sam to scoot over and sits down next to him on the couch, draping an arm lightly around his brother - He knows he doesn't really like being touched when he's feeling rough.

"M'not sick" Sam mumbles, as if reading Dean's exact thoughts.

Dean puffs out a laugh, and replies "Sure you're not kiddo, that's why you're running a fever and wheezing like there's no tomorrow" and Sam allows himself to smirk a little - He always gets grumpy when he has to skip a hunt, feels like he's missing out on something huge, when really he's just avoiding all the drama of his lungs as good as giving up on him and him passing out in a goddamn grave.

Dean leans over and pecks Sam on the forehead, trying to ignore the fact that he probably felt hotter than he did five minutes ago, brushing it off as paranoia and pushes himself off the couch.

"I'm going to meet Dad at the police station, you call me if you need us to come back, okay? You know the drill.." he trails off when he sees Sam roll his eyes.

"Whatever man, I'm..." He draws in a deep breath and coughs it out, wincing slightly "I'm fine, just try to come back in one piece."

Dean cracks a smile and says "As long as you don't go dying on me, bitch." and walks out the motel room.

"Jerk" Sam replies, even though he knows Dean can't hear him. He creases his eyebrows together and draws in another painful breath as he turns himself away from the television to try and catch up on some sleep.

* * *

Sam's awoken from his already disturbed slumber by a cough that racks his body and causes him to gag hard enough for him to stumble into the bathroom and splash water onto his face. He leans over the sink, one hand gripping the side and another in front of his face as he splutters into his sleeve. Groaning, he slowly lowers himself down onto the floor and leans against the bath and lets out a wheezes sigh. He tilts his head back against the bath and squeezes his eyes shut as he tries to catch up with his breaths - which are becoming increasingly frequent.

A moment later, Sam knows that things aren't going to get any better unless he gets to his inhaler, which, conveniently is on the couch - the other side of the room. He coughs once more into his fist, wipes it on his pyjama bottoms and turns around to push himself up on the sink. He gathers himself and begins walking over to get his inhaler when he notices how badly he's shaking.

"Shit" he mutters to himself and rolls his shoulders back - only now noticing how tense they were.

When he finally reaches the sofa he collapses onto it and fumbles for his inhaler and raises it shakily to his mouth, taking a puff and holding it for as long as he can - not long enough it turns out as he breaks into another coughing fit. With the armrest he shifts himself into a sitting position and takes another hit on the inhaler, noticing that his breaths are becoming shallower. It becomes apparent to Sam that it's bad this time and he isn't going to get through it by himself so he reaches for his phone and speed dials Deans number. As it rings, Sam curses himself for being so weak and dependent all the time - why can't his goddamn lungs get their shit together and work normally for once? That's all he asks for.

The phone rings out to voicemail and panic grows inside Sam's chest - almost on cue a cough tickles the back of his throat. He rubs circles in his chest like he always does when it feels this tight and dials John's number as quickly as he can, his head is starting to hurt and his wheeze actually starting to get on his nerves. Oh yeah, and he can't breathe.

The ringing stops and Sam hears the rustling of the phone on Johns end, "Sammy?" Sam wheezes inwards and relaxes slightly against the couch "Sammy?" Johns repeats, worry clearly present in his voice.

Sam goes to reply but his breath gets caught in his throat and hitches, causing him to cough. "D-dad" he manages, taking much more effort than it should have done, "I think- I think you might have to come.. back" he forces out and tries to suck in as deep a breath he can manage. He takes another hit on the inhaler, even though he knows he's pretty much past the point of it doing any good, but he needs some comfort, he needs to feel like he's in control.

"Okay, okay we're coming back. Hang in there bud, we're coming back, okay?" John says down the phone, the panic even clearer now. "Have you used your inhaler?"

Sam groans and John adds "Of course you have, sorry. Of course you have." He can never think straight when Sam's like this - gets too caught up on the fear of loosing him to form a coherent thought. Dean is always the one to place a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder and rub circles on his back and reassure him when it's bad like this.

"C-can you put-" Sam wheezes before continuing, "put Dean on. Please..."

He hears John clear his throat and then say "Yeah... yeah. You're doing great son, we'll be there soon" and he passes over the phone.

Sam hears Dean speaking to John and is able to pick up certain words like 'fucking car' and 'hurry', but he's focusing too much energy on breathing in and out to pay attention. "Hey, Sammy" he hears Deans voice and instantly tries to grasp onto it, his anchor. "You don't sound too good, bud. We're on our way back now - Dad's driving so I can stay on the phone, okay?" he doesn't give Sam a chance to reply and continues with "Going at least double the limit, Jesus, nobody better stop us or we'll drive right over them... Hey, you breathing?"

Sam wheezes and says "Yeah, keep talking" and Dean does - he knows that Sam likes it when he talks to him when he can't breathe, talk about anything and everything as long as he can hear his voice.

"Did you do your neb?" Dean asks, Sam shakily rolls his shoulder back again.

"Can't... too far. Shaking" It feels like it's taking more and more air to speak every time he opens his mouth so he reaches for his inhaler and takes 2 puffs.

"Do you need a hospital? How long has it been like this?"

Sam squints his eyes shut and shakes his head no, even though he knows Dean can't see him. "No- no hospital. Just want you" he coughs again into his sleeve and whimpers quietly when his chest tightens "Hurry" he adds, turning himself around slowly to place his hands on his knees and lean forward.

"Okay Sammy, we're coming. Hang on."

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**End Note: Okay! that's the first chapter down! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it and PLEASE review. I'll be writing every day so expect an update in about 3 days or so. Feel free to message me if you have any ideas about anything or if you have any recommendations for fics; I would love to read some other work similar to this :)**


	2. Chapter 2

John pulls into the motel driveway and Dean shoves open the door and speeds towards the motel room, he lifts his hand to knock on the door and then remembers that Sam can't fucking breathe - how the hell does he expect him to be able to get up walk across the goddamn room ? Cursing himself silently for being so stupid, he digs his keys out of his pockets and unlocks the door, calling out Sams name as he does so.

"Sammy?" he drops the keys onto the table and spots a figure sitting perched on the couch, hands on knees and shoulders heaving. Strangled, wheezing sounds are coming from Sam and Dean rushes over to perch in front of his on the floor, "Hey, hey hey Sammy, I'm here now - Jesus you need your neb."

Sam looks up from his lap and Dean see's for the first time just how rough he looks - His face is pale and beads of sweat are forming on his forehead from the effort of trying to breathe in and out.

Before Dean has a chance to set up the nebulizer for him, John is handing Sam the mouthpiece and squeezing his shoulder reassuringly. Sam nods a thank you and grabs it with a shaky hand, bringing it to his mouth and sucking in the medicine. Usually his shoulders would have relaxed now and he would be beginning to straighten up and sound a bit better, but if anything his wheeze is getting worse and his arms are shaking so much he can barely hold the mouthpiece in place.

Dean reaches forward and places his hand on Sam's thigh, running his thumb up and down slowly and says "Hey, bud? You need to try and take deep breaths okay? Try and do that for me" and Sam just nods and draws another breath - goddamn it he would do anything for Dean, even when he cant breathe he'll do anything for Dean. He loves the kid.

Tears are forming in the corner of Sam's eyes and Dean climbs up onto the sofa and positions himself so he can rub circles on Sam's back to help him relax. Sam still has one hand on his knee and is still hunches over the side off the couch, but he moves his hand back to grab at Deans jeans and tug at them until his knuckles turn white.

After 5 minutes of Dean rubbing circles on Sam's back and talking to him about nothing and Sam nodding weakly in response, John speaks up and says "Dean, he's stopped wheezing" and Dean nearly stops breathing himself when he hears that, because he and John both know that that's never good sign and that if he's stopped wheezing that means he isn't moving enough air to even make a sound. Shit.

Dean looks up into his brothers sunken eyes and noticing that his lips are a strange tint of blue, says "Okay kiddo, looks like we're going up to the hospital" Sam closes his eyes slowly and motions towards his chest with his free hand, "I know Sammy, we're going to get you oxygen real soon. Hang in there."

"M'chest is s-so.. tight" Sam tries to say, but ends up mouthing it when he runs out of air. Dean raises a finger to hush Sam and tells him to not talk, before leaning over and taking the nebulizer out of his hand and scooping him up into his arms.

And damn, Dean would do anything to not be so familiar with what it feels like to hold his limp kid brother and he would give up everything just so that he would never have to see him struggle for breath ever again, but as Winchester luck goes, they take what they get. Sam's clinging onto Deans shirt with all the strength he has left, his head resting against Deans broad chest - bobbing up and down to the rhythm of his brothers quick steps and his eyes are squeezed shut in concentration as he tries to draw in feeble breaths. Dean has grown used to Sam's perpetual wheeze, taking it as a sense of comfort in knowing that hey, at least he's breathing - albeit loud as anything, but now there's nothing but silence coming from his brother's pale, curled up form and shit, they need to get help soon.

Dean bolts to the car and places Sam in the backseat, taking care not to lie him down and leaning him against the car door. John's already in the drivers seat so Deans slides into the back next to Sam and pulls him towards him, wrapping one arm around his body and holding his chest, and using the other the stroke his forehead. Before h's even had a change to strap himself in, John's speeding down the main road towards the ER, and Dean thanks God that the roads are free of traffic.

"How's he doing? We should have never left him this long.. Should have known it was bad" John says, still shaken but clearly out of his temporary trance.

"We don't have time for his Dad, this shit just happens and we de- fuck he's loosing consciousness, hurry up!" Dean almost screams back as he continues to brush Sam's head with his thumb, noticing how cool his body feels. Sam's eyes are rolling back in his head and his chest is barely moving by the time they finally pull into the ER.

John doesn't park, just stops outside the Ambulance bay, jumps out and runs around to the back of the car, where he helps Deans get him out, "Somebody help us! My boy can't breathe, he's not breathing!" He cries out as he runs into the building, followed by Dean. A swarm of nurses comes rushing towards them with a gurney, and Deans takes over explaining things to the inquiring doctors so John can sit down in the waiting room, running his hands over his face slowly.

"He has uh, brittle asthma, we thought we had it under control but he just couldn't get enough air and then..." he trails off as his eyes run over Sam's almost lifeless body on the gurney in front of him, the nurses give him pitying looks and get to work on Sam straight away- connecting him to a oximeter and setting him up with an oxygen mask.

"Has it ever been this bad before?" they ask, and Dean would have laughed out loud if his brother wasn't as good as dying right in front of him, because, yeah it's been this bad before. Too many goddamn times. He hears the hushed remarks of 'low GCS' 'may have to intubate' between the medical staff and grips onto Sam's hand.

"I'm sorry dear, you're going to have to wait back here" he's told before being pulled away and he lets his brothers' uncurled and unmoving hand drop to his side to watch them whisk him away out of sight.

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**End Note: Sorry for the slightly shorter chapter this time, there was only so much i could write for such a short time span, but I'm planning on making the next chapter longer and hopefully a bit more emotional. I'm still not 100% sure where I'm going with this fic so if you have any plotline suggestions please tell me :) I really hope you're enjoying it so far and please let me know what you think.  
**


	3. Chapter 3

**Writers note: Oh god, I'm so sorry for the delay in writing this, I had the worst case of writers block for a good few weeks ad every time I sat down to finish the chapter I would end up super distracted by something else.**

**This chapter's slightly longer than the previous two and hopefully that compensates for the irregularity in updates.**

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After over an hour of sitting anxiously in the waiting room, a doctor pushed through the double doors and makes his way towards John and Dean, when they stand up he asks "Are you the family of Sam Winchester?"

John replies "Yes, I'm John, Sam's father and this is my son Dean", he holds out his hand to the doctor.

"Pleasure to meet you John" he nods in acknowledgement at Dean. "I'm Dr Valentine, your sons acting physician -"

"Is he okay?" Dean interrupts, anticipation lacing his voice.

Dr Valentine gives Dean a non-committal look and says "When Sam came in he was dangerously close to going into respiratory failure and his oxygen level were dangerously low. After performing multiple tests it was confirmed that he is in fact suffering from pneumonia and that, taken with his asthma, caused such a bad attack-".

John lets out a sigh and runs his hand over his face again, before asking "How bad?", Dr Valentine seems taken aback by how familiar and non phased the family appear to be about Sam's condition and figures it must be because they've been in this situation few too many times.

"I - we were having trouble bringing up Sam's oxygen levels so we had to put him on a ventilator, at least until his lungs begin to respond to the antibiotics we're giving him".

Dean nods in response and shifts uncomfortably on his feet, before asking "When can we see him?"

Dr Valentine smiles at the Dean and says "You can come with me now into PICU and I'll show you his room. Visiting hours end in a few hours but I'll have a nurse come in and let you know", he leads them back through the double doors and down a series of straight corridors until they came to a small, eerily silent and brightly lit ward with a nurses station in the middle. The doctor stops outside the door, which Dean assumed is his brothers and turns to face John.

"I have to see to my other patients, but I'll be back in the morning to see how Sam's doing. The nurses will be in to check on him every 20 minutes" he gives John a weak smile.

"Thank you so much, doc" he responds.

"It's no problem" Dr Valentine says, before turning on his heels and heading back the way they had just come.

Dean leads the way into the room but stops short at the door when his gaze finally falls on his brother; it never gets easier for him to see him this way; He's lying flat on his back on the hospital bed, the thin covers pulled up high and tucked neatly under his arms which makes it clear that he hasn't moved even an inch since last being checked on. Theres an IV running up his arm and a pulse oximeter on his finger, his hands are uncurled and his arms lie by his side. The most shocking thing to Dean is Sam's pallor; his skin is an unnerving pale colour and his lips, which are a drained, shade of grey, wrap around the ventilator which juts out of his mouth unnaturally. After taking in his brothers' frail form, he makes his way to one of the chairs to the side on his bed, followed by his father who takes the chair opposite.

The two sit in silence which is only broken by the gentle whoosh of the ventilator and the steady rhythm of the heart monitor.

John clears his throat when he notices Dean - leaning forward in his seat and rubbing his hands together. "Don't worry Dean, he's gonna pull through like he always does".

Dean looks up from his lap and says "I know dad, it's just that I can't - I can't stop thinking that this is my fault, y'know? That he got this bad... I should've been keeping an eye on him while you we-"

He's cut off by John who says "I don't want to hear it, don't go blaming yourself for this when it's not your fault. You were just telling me in the car that we just gotta deal with what life throws at this boy -" he glances over at his youngest son with a sigh.

"Dad, I know, but he wasn't well when I left him this morning and I should have - I should've noticed, y'know? We've been here too many times, I should have known..." he trails off and gets out of his seat to stand next to the bed where he takes his brothers hand in his own.

John comes round to join Dean on the other side of the bed, where he places a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it, "I'm gonna go grab some coffee from the downstairs, want anything?"

"No, thanks Dad" he says before looking back down at Sam. John gives his eldest sons shoulder another reassuring squeeze and walks out of the room. Dean pulls his chair closer to Sammy's bed and takes hold of his hand again, before leaning his head back in the chair and falling into a light, half-conscientious sleep.

* * *

Dean wakes up a few hours later and rubs the sleep out his eyes, arching his back and he does so. He looks around the hospital room and notes that John still isn't back. He frowns, the café was only downstairs so he should be back by now and reaches into his pocket to check his phone

His heart sinks when he sees the missed call from Sam show up on his screen and he mentally kicks himself for being preoccupied by god-knows-what when his brother needed him. He also notices a missed call from John and a text that read;

_Dean, had to finish off the case. Take care of Sammy and call me if anything changes._

Dean reads the message a few more times before replying;

_Stay safe.  
_

He isn't mad at his dad because he knows how hard it is for him to be around Sam when he's sick and besides, Sam always prefers Deans company. It's normal for John so slip off in the middle of the night without telling either of them beforehand and just leaving a note or a text and that's _okay_ because that's just what they do and John isn't a bad parent for it; he just needs time sometimes.

Deans thoughts are interrupted as Doctor Valentine walks in and picks up the chart at the foot on Sam's bed. Dean instantly rises to his feet and raises his eyebrows in anticipation.

"Well, how's it looking" he prompts the doctor.

The doctor looks up from the chart and smiles at Dean before glancing over to the empty chair and asking "Where's your father?

"He had to leave – business call. How's Sam?" he replies curtly.

"Right okay, well I suppose if he won't be back any time soon I can discuss Sam's condition with you…" Dr Valentine says with a sigh, meeting Deans gaze.

He looks back at Sam's chart and then places it back down, "His oxygen levels have improved since he was admitted, but it took considerably longer than I would have hoped. I'm happy take him off vent but we're going to have to keep a close eye on his levels for a good few days at least to make sure they don't bottom out and he stays stable" he finishes off clearing his throat.

"What is it doc, if you've got something to say then say it… whatever it is" Dean asks, his voice masked by both agitation and worry.

The doctor rubs his chin with his hand, "Dean, I just think it would be better if your father were here. I'd feel more comfortably taking him off the vent knowing that he would be here with your brother. It's not a-"

"It's not going to be pleasant for Sam, yeah we know. We've been here before. Look Sir, I appreciate your concern, I really do but I'm right here for Sammy. I'm all he needs, he'll be absolutely fine if I'm here, okay?"

Doctor Valentine gives Dean a genuine smile and agrees "Okay, we'll wait until Sam wakes up and then get started with the extubation.".

* * *

Two hours or so later, Dean feels his brothers hand brush his on the bed. Immediately he's up and stroking Sam's hair from his face.

"Sammy? C'mon buddy, I'm right here. Sammy?" he urges, taking his hand in his. Sam's eyes remain closed but roam around behind his lids. "Open your eyes Sam, you're okay, you're okay."

Slowly Sam's eyes roll open, at first drooping closed a few times and then settling on Dean. A groan escapes him as he tries to talk, but noticing the tube down his throat his eyes suddenly widen in fear and confusion.

"Hey, hey hey Sammy, calm down it's okay you're on a vent, don't fight it" Dean reassures, looking directly into his brothers eyes, "They're gonna take it out just hold on bud".

Dean presses the call button and a team of nurses and Dr Valentine come running in and get started setting up. The doctor walks over to Sam, taking Deans place and looks down at him, smiling.

"Okay Sam, we're going to take the tube out in a second, I need you to cough hard for me when I say so and it'll be over in an instant" he nods towards one of the nurses who undoes the straps on either side of Sam's face.

"I'm right here, Sammy. You're fine, it's fine" Dean says again, wishing that there was a way he could get closer to his brother without medical staff standing in the way. Sam's eyes roll over to him slowly and he can see the pain in his eyes and the concentration it's taking for him not to fight the vent. He would do anything to take the pain away from him.

"Okay Sam, I'm going to pull the tube out now and I need you to give me a big cough as I do so, help me out" Dr Valentine says, smiling warmly at Sam.

He tugs lightly on the tube and Sam begins to gag as it slides up and tickles the back of his throat, Dean steps forward as soon as he sees his brothers struggle, "Cough for me Sammy, it'll be over" he urges and Sam squeezes his eyes shut and a tear rolls down his cheek but he coughs the tube out and relaxes back into the bed.

The nurse pulls down an oxygen mask and places it over Sam's head, and Deans swears he can see his brother's face twitch a small smile. He lets out a breath that he didn't even realize he was holding, because he's okay. Sammy's okay.

Dr Valentine steps out the way to let Dean near his brother, and the nurse helps Sam to sit up in the bed, by places pillows behind his back and head. "I'll be back in 20 minutes to check on you Sam" she says cheerily, and then in a slightly more serious tone, adds "Try to keep the mask on as much as you can, we still need to bring your levels up" she looks up at the monitor next to Sam and frowns ever so slightly before follow the doctor out the room.

Finally alone with Sam, after what had seemed like an eternity Dean repositions his chair so Sam can see him and sits himself down. Letting out a sigh he says "Ah Sammy, I'm so sorry I let this happen…"

Lifting one hand to stop Dean and the other to wiggle the oxygen mask off his face, Sam smiles at Dean and shakes his head minutely, "S'not your… fault… D'n. M'sorry for… not telli- telling you" he rasps out, his voice more of a whisper than anything. He lets his hand drop down and draws in a few more breaths before breaking into a fit of wet, heavy sounding coughs that leave him clinging on the bed rails and panting.

"Hey, hey hey hey Dude c'mon leave that on. You don't have to speak just yet, get some rest" Dean says as he places the mask back on Sam's face. Sam's eyes slowly close and he gives Dean a small nod before he falls back asleep.

* * *

**End Notes: This isn't the last chapter, just in case you were wondering and I'm going to try and fall into more of a routine with regards updating this, because once I get into the swing of things it's actually a blast to write.**

**As usual please review; constructive criticism is also welcomed and (for the most part) appreciated ;) Also, if you have any fics to recommend that are of a similar genre please feel free - And yes, you can self rec yourself to death!**


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